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The Handler and his Beautiful Blonde Dragon

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Prologue. Escape.

*September ‘02*
It happened again. Harry glanced to his left, taking in the mass of freckled skin, red hair and rippling muscles.

Dammit! Harry sighed, rubbing his hand over his tired eyes, before rolling out of bed. He couldn’t keep falling for Charlie’s charms. Yes, Charlie, as in the second eldest of the Weasley brood, smoking hot, muscular dragon handler and also his best mates Ron’s big brother.

Harry crept through the adjoining door into the cool bathroom and he stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror as he thought back to how this, him sleeping with Charlie Weasley, all began.




*End of July ‘98*


The Burrow just wasn’t the same, it was quiet, even full with family and friends, who were coming and going at all hours, it might as well have been entirely empty. No one breathed a word. Especially not to one Harry Potter. He was 18 tomorrow, and just three and a bit months ago he was responsible for the downfall of the worst Dark Lord the wizarding and muggle worlds had ever seen. Voldemort. And everyone was still walking on egg shells around him.


Currently, he was half slumped over the kitchen table, and a long cold cup of tea, watching the hands of the Weasley family’s special clock. And the friends and family arrows, and their locations.


He listened to them out in the garden, organising the picnic for tomorrows celebration, one which he wasn’t supposed to know about and was pretending he couldn’t hear their whispers. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mr Weasley were all out there in the garden, rearranging furniture and de-gnoming the garden. And looking back to the clock, all of their hands were on ‘Garden’, of course.


Mrs Weasley was rushing about here, there and everywhere, and the clock showed just where she was ‘home’. Aunt Andromeda and Teddy, Harry’s wonderful little godson, were headed over to top the night, Bill and Fleur and baby Victorie were on their way over as well, so all of their arms said as much ‘Travelling’.


Harry skimmed passed one particular hand, he totally refused to look at Fred’s clock hand. Percy was at ‘Work’ where else. And Charlie…


Harry sat up straighter, Charlie’s hand said ‘Home’. Big green eyes grew wide as the flames rushed into life and hissed in protest as a man emerged from within. All muscles and freckles, with Arthur Weasleys bright orange-red hair, down to his shoulders, much to his mother dismay. He also sported a new shiny burn on his forearm. Oops, Mrs Weasley certainly wouldn’t be impressed.


“Harry Potter!” He boomed when he turned around to face the kitchen, eyes searching the area for his mother, who usually occupied the space in front of the stove.


That was the first time Harry had seen Charlie in a while, and it had been this particular Weasley many years prior that prompted Harry’s revelation about his sexual orientation.


Charlie, as it turned out, had been sent home from work by his boss to recover from his newest injury, a disgruntled juvenile apparently. Mrs Weasley had fussed something crazy, like only Molly Weasleys could, of course. And because Charlie was supposed to rest and recuperate he was charged with essentially baby sitting Harry.


They talked for hours, Harry was smitten almost instantly, and readily agreed with Charlie, especially after the topic of Harry’s future arose, and he mentioned how he wanted to leave for a while, clear his head. Charlie suggested coming back to Romania, help out on the reserve that he would talk to his boss and put in a good word, Harry was thrilled at the offer and immediately agreed. The rest of the family, however, were not as impressed.


Just for a while the big redhead had promised, Harry nodded along like a little lost puppy beside him. Eventually they had agreed to let him go, not that they could have stopped him if he chose to just up and leave, he was an adult after all.


So come mid September he was packed, his tiny amount of belonging packed into his old school rucksack, hanging off one shoulder and left via international portkey with Charlie.


Charlie, true to his word, had spoken to his boss and got Harry a gig at the reserve. Just a worker, hard labour and heavy lifting, helping out whenever and wherever he could. His new boss, Gas, sat him down on his first day and laid it out, cards on the table. Harry was told that if he didn’t pull his weight he was out, but if he did, if he knuckled down and worked his tosh off that in a year he could see himself being trained up to be a dragon handler. Harrys eyes glowed with determination, he wouldn’t let Gas down and he wouldn’t let Charlie down, this was more than he had ever expected.


So a year later when Gas, or Bossman as Harry found out everyone called him, had told the freshly 19 year old he could start his training to become a handler everyone went out to celebrate.


Over the year Harry had been in Romania, Charlie had kindly introduced the green eyed boy to all of his close friends, and he soon became part of the gang. There was seven of them, Cassie, Brody, Tom, Micka, Alice, Charlie (of course) and now himself. They were a close bunch, BBQs, evenings out, DVD and box set splurges. The lot.


Cassie and Brody were an item, 27 and 32 respectively and they had been together 6 year, she was tall, blonde and beautiful and he was a rugged and handsome man with skin as black and the night sky. They partied harder than the singletons, and flirted outrageously with everyone, but never strayed.


Next was Micka a 25 year old prankster, also blonde, but instead of Cassie’s platinum locks he had dirty blonde hair, pulled into a top knot, his blue eyes were piercing and far too clever. Micka was a joker through and through, and he got a lot of repercussions for his actions from all around him, but he loved those just as much as his own pranks.


Alice, a beautiful and tiny human of 28 years, long black hair, dark chocolate eyes, and much stronger than you could guess, she could handle her unruly colleagues as well as the boisterous juviniles she worked with on a day to day basis. She was also the bosses on again off again girlfriend.


And finally Tom, he was the oldest of the bunch at 35, though he acted the youngest aside from Micka, the pair of them when the put their heads together were a force to be reckoned with. He was tall, muscular, not quite as muscly as Brody or Charlie, but they were still just as obvious, he had curly brown hair and blue eyes, Alice and Cassie had once said he was a walking wet dream.


*Mid September ‘99*


The celebrations went well into the night, Cassie and Brody plied Harry with alcohol all night, whilst Alice tried to set him up with anyone with a pulse. It was all in good fun though.


Eventually, however, when Alice had fallen asleep on Brody’s shoulder from too much Malibu, they decided to call it a night. Getting home was a long walk, and as soon as they got to their little reservation village, they began to lose members of their group. The air had somewhat helped sober the partiers up.


Cassie and Brody left first on their walk, taking a still sleepy Alice with them, Brody practically carrying her as her head wobbled about on her neck. She was going to sleep on their sofa tonight.


Tom had fallen into Micka’s house and refused to leave again. So Charlie and Harry carried on to the redheads house as his was closer than Harry’s own hut. They started on the chilled beers in Charlie’s fridge to get thei buzz back.


Harry had no idea how it happened, but flashes of their evening came back to him as he woke up.


He originally initiated it, he kissed Charlie first. Buttons and zips were fumbled with, and clothes were torn from sweaty bodies. Harry knew he was gay, he had for a few years, Charlie and his beautiful body was the reason he even questioned why he wasn’t interested in breasts and curves.


Harry and Charlie went hard and fast all night, first on the sofa and finally on the big comfy mattress on the floor in Charlie’s bedroom, twisted amongst soft blue bedding.


The next morning Harry had woken up, his lower back shooting with a dull ache and his throat sore, his mind supplied exactly why those areas were hurting. Charlie’s thick freckled arm was thrown over Harry’s hips, his stubbled face tucked into Harry’s over sensitive neck.


It was the best way Harry had ever woken up and after another round of sex it soon became his favourite morning activity.


That had been 3 years ago